


Fit the Scene Just Right

by orphan_account



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU from season 1 technically, M/M, not psycho!Stiles, requested by anonymous
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-24
Updated: 2012-07-24
Packaged: 2017-11-10 16:00:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/468086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After revenge has been taken, things become... surprisingly normal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fit the Scene Just Right

**Author's Note:**

> Requested by Anonymous on tumblr: peter takes stiles on a shopping trip and makes him get a red shirt/sweater/thing

It was kind of amazing—and mildly disturbing—what a good dose of revenge could do for a seemingly crazed Alpha werewolf. Once Kate was dead, Peter.. changed. He stumbled into a nearby chair, and sat, head hanging low. Everyone stood in the foyer, just in front of the door, staring between Kate’s body sprawled on the floor, and Peter collapsed in the chair.

Startling the group, Peter stood and approached Chris, who had lead everyone inside. Peter held out a hand, “I’m sorry,” he said softly. Chris sighed, but returned the grip of the handshake and..

Well, that was that.

It was almost like nothing had happened.

Aside from the fact that Jackson still wanted to be a werewolf, and that Peter had decided to start gathering a bigger pack, and that Scott needed a shit ton of training because otherwise he was doomed as a wolf.

Things settled into relative normalcy. Stiles found himself at the Hale house often, sitting on the porch with a cold lemonade while he watched his wolfy friends—and Jackson, who was trying to prove himself to Peter, prove that he deserved the bite—wrestle and train. Every so often Peter would break from the fray and come over to Stiles.

“Refill, Stiles?” He would ask, motioning to the glass.

Stiles would nod, but make to stand only to be gently pushed back into his seat.

“Please, allow me. You’re a guest.”

It escalated from there: it went from fetching refills to holding open doors, to demanding that Stiles sit beside him whenever they’d all gather around for dinner. Then it changed from Stiles coming over only when Scott was over, to Stiles coming over whenever he felt like it. It wen from Derek sitting in on their conversations, to having chats alone by the candlelight with tea and coffee and  _crumpets_ , of all things.

“So Stiles,” Peter starts one of these chats, “I noticed that you’ve been wearing a lot of the same clothes over and over.”

Stiles looks over mid-bite. “Uh, yeah, I guess. It’s almost time to go school clothes shopping again, huh?”

Peter grins. “Indeed.”

Stiles thinks nothing of the incident until almost two weeks later, when Peter shows up at his door. His dad calls out to him, “Peter is here!” Like it’s a normal occurrence and almost like it’s a  _date_.

All the same Stiles dances around on one foot until he’s got both shoes on, and then stumbles his way down the stairs, skidding to a halt at the front door. “Okay, let’s go!” Even though he has no idea where Peter could be taking him.

“Are you taking him to dinner?” His dad asks, and Stiles makes a mental note to ask his dad why he wasn’t more concerned.

“Most likely, if that’s alright.” Peter replies, suave and charming.

“Just have him home before midnight.” Sheriff nods to both of them, and kisses Stiles’ forehead, before letting them leave.

As usual, Peter holds the passenger side door open for him, and Stiles doesn’t open his mouth until they’re driving.

“So, uh, what’s the occasion?”

“Clothes shopping.”

Stiles flushes pink. “Oh, no, you don’t have to! That’s a parent thing! I don’t want you wasting your money on—?”

Peter quells Stiles’ rambling with a squeeze to his shoulder. “I’ll decide what is a waste of my money, Stiles, alright?” His fingertips slowly slide down Stiles’ arm until he pats the top of his hand, then pulls away. “And I’m paying for dinner, no complaints.”

Stiles opens his mouth anyways, but Peter simply hushes him.

)

Peter doesn’t fail in his quest to open every door for Stiles, be it the car door, the nonautomatic door at the mall, of the door to the dressing room. They’ve made their way through almost every story in the mall—Spencers, Hot Topic, Pac Sun, even Payless—and now Peter leads him to the opposite end of the mall, to the attached Target.

“Uh, Peter, really, I don’t want to sound ungrateful, but isn’t this pushing it?” He motions to the copious amounts of bags that  _Peter_  is carrying and that he refuses to let Stiles carry.

“Not at all.” But there’s a look in Peter’s eyes that is a little embarrassed, endearing and sweet. “Just a few more things, alright? I had something specific in mind, and it would mean a lot to me if I could buy it for you.”

Stiles can’t help the little rush of butterflies that goes through his stomach. “Alright, alright,  _fine_ , you big softie.”

Peter grins, and Stiles follows barely a step behind as they head into the Junior Men’s Section.

Peter finally hands some of the bags to Stiles, but only so that he can quickly rifle through a rack of jackets. Stiles wants to make a comment about how he has plenty of jackets—including one he’d found in the Hale house that Peter had subsequently given him—but keeps his mouth shut because he’s starting to realize that Peter Hale is an unstoppable force of gentlemanly kindness and charm.

“Ah!”

Stiles looks over, feeling a little bad because he had completely zoned out, but quickly realizes it doesn’t matter because Peter has found what he was looking for, and takes the bags back while keeping the garment in hand. Peter simply smiles at Stiles, then leads him to check out line.

It isn’t until they’re back in his car that Stiles even bothers to reach for the Target bag. He pulls it into his lap, and takes the clothing out.

“A… a red sweatshirt?”

Peter grins cheekily. “Fitting, no?”

Stiles laughs and shakes his head. “You’re a madman, Peter Hale, with a soft spot for shopping.”

Peter hums, contemplating Stiles’ words. “I may be a madman, but I think I simply have a soft spot for you, Stiles.”

He can’t help the blush, or the way he grins stupidly and hides it in the sweatshirt, though he knows Peter can  _feel_  his happiness, anyways.

Peter pulls into the Stilinski driveway after their quiet, tame dinner, and holds the car door open like always. He walks Stiles to the front door, bags in hand and a hand on Stiles’ lower back. “I had a wonderful time tonight, Stiles.”

He looks up at Peter, grinning sheepishly. “Me too,”

“I would be honored if we could do it again, sometime.”

“Totally.” Stiles nods, feeling awkward and young next to Peter. “Uh, maybe I’ll pay?”

Peter leans in a little closer, laughing “nonsense” under his breath. He kisses Stiles briefly, chaste and dry on his lips, but sweet in the way he lightly sucks Stiles’ lower lip into his mouth for just a moment. Stiles presses back eagerly, and whines when Peter pulls away.

“Your bags, Stiles,” he says, carefully handing them over one by one to Stiles. “I’ll see you tomorrow for tea, yes?”

“Sure.” Stiles nods. “I’ll wear something you bought me,”

Peter smiles. “I look forward to it.” Another brief kiss, this time to his cheek, and Peter is back in the car, driving off into the night. Stiles watches him leave, and when Stiles turns around to let himself into his house, his dad is standing they’re smirking.

“You know, your mother liked older men,” obvious, since there was a five year age gap between the Sheriff and his late wife. “I never expected you to take after her so much.”

“Dad, seriously?” Stiles’ face turn beat red and he hurries his way inside, trying to dodge as much awkward-dad-talk as possible.


End file.
